


a lovely day

by littlearrows



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Mad Max: Fury Road - Freeform, POV Third Person, mmfr au, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlearrows/pseuds/littlearrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is the one who runs from both the living and dead.</p><p>(aka mad max: fury road AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lovely day

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings for everything related to mad max: fury road (rape, sexual slavery, kidnapping, self-harm, infanticide) plus tw for underage, suicide and stillbirth  
> some lines directly lifted from mmfr

There are ghosts in her eyes. They haunt her, even now. Finn claws at the cage around her face, screeching _why did you kill me why did you kill me_ as he tries to scratch her eyes out. When she blinks she can see his blood on her hands, his face turned into a skull. She tries to shake him off, twisting and turning her face as she points the gun at man in front of her. The five women ( _Breeders! His prized breeders!_ she had heard the Reaper shout) behind him have stopped washing, turning the water off. The Reaper at her feet stirs a bit in the sand and she steps on his unchained hand, digging into his palm with his own stolen boot.

“Water,” Clarke demands; the sand in her mouth is making it difficult to talk. She points the gun at the pregnant one and waves her over. “You. Back.” She says to the man in front of her. He steps backwards towards the rest of the women as the pregnant one approaches.

Clarke tears the hose out of her hand as Finn pulls at the muzzle around her face. She can see Wells standing on top of the War Rig, cursing at her and asking why she let him die. She closes her eyes and tries to muffle his voice with sound of the cold rushing water. Finn screams at her even louder, but Wells gets quiet. She jerks back, dropping the hose, when Finn’s ghostly fingernails scrape up against her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you, blood bag?” One of the women asks. She’s holding hands with the pregnant one and her body is leaning up against the man.

“Blood bag?” asks the little one. “We’ve never seen one before.” She runs jerkily to Clarke, legs carefully bowing out to avoiding scraping up against the spiked belt around her, and gets close to Clarke’s face, moving her hair from where it’s caught in her eyelashes.

“Charlotte, get away from her!” The pregnant one shouts, frightful. She darts forward, grabs the little one’s hand and pulls her back close to the group.

“We _have_ seen a blood bag, when Octavia bled and bled after her baby,” one of the women chirps as the brown women cuts off her fang-toothed chastity belt. “You weren’t with us yet.”

“ _Shof op_ ,” The man and woman leaning up next to him say quietly.

“We don’t talk about that,” the pregnant one says wearily, as if she’s said it a hundred times.

“Why not?” The woman says and she helps to remove Charlotte’s belt. “Octavia bred true. Her daughter had ten fingers and toes and full, clear lungs. She should be proud. It’s not Octavia’s fault that Dante killed her.”

“Enough,” the man says sternly.

The little one, Charlotte, steps out of her belt and gives it a hard kick before getting in Clarke’s face again. “Blood Bag, are you coming to the green place? The _graun kom meini nomons_?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, simply shakes the chain attaching her muzzle to the Reaper’s wrist.

“We can cut that off you,” The dark woman says, swinging the bolt cutters around in her hands.

“I’m better alone,” Clarke says slowly, wet sand slipping down her throat.

“You like being a blood bag or something?”

“They’ll slice up for feet for trying to escape.”

“We can cut you loose.”

“The green place has food and water.”

“You want to be caged up? _Osir nou diyos_. We are not things.”

The man’s voice cuts through the rest. “The war party is coming. There’s no time now. Get in the rig; we’ll get that muzzle off you. Or, if you want, you can sit here with your Reaper and wait for them to catch you again and you can be a blood bag until they bleed you dry.”

The dark girl cuts her chain and kicks the Reaper’s ribs hard. She spits on him before running back to the group, not looking behind her to see if Clarke is following. Clarke takes Finn’s jacket back from the Reaper, puts it on, and gets in the War Rig.

_________

Octavia remembers being taken in bits and flashes and dreams that come to her in the night.

She thinks she remembers her mother, giggling while peach juices ran down both their chins; gentle fingers tickling Octavia awake; warms arms rocking her to sleep. Oftentimes she wonders if she created those memories out of nothing. Bellamy tells her that their mother smelled of apples, but Octavia can’t remember that far back, can’t even begin to imagine what apples smell like.

The Reapers came in the night, while mothers and children slept piled together and the only ones awake were the grandmothers tending to the fires. The Grounders weren’t prepared for an attack—Octavia and Bellamy were ripped from their mother’s grasp as she clawed at the Reapers trying to take her children. They shot her dead for that. Octavia remembers her mother’s warm blood spattering her face and Bellamy screaming next to her. The Reapers took nine children and three women that night and two more women the next. Bellamy was the only boy—sixteen and strong; they dragged him on a chain behind their rigs, yelling profanities at him while ten-year-old Octavia huddled next to Costia in the backseat of one of the cars. They held hands and cried the whole journey to the Mountain, whispering prayers to the _meini nomons_ in the sky.

When they were pulled from the cars, President Dante stood in front of them. They were kicked at their knees until they were all kneeling in front of him. Octavia will never forget that first look—how he seemed hundred feet tall, his sickly white skin making him seem more ghost than man, the way his breathing machine hummed in and out. Dr. Tsing—the Organic Mechanic, Raven called her—looked over Bellamy’s feet, which were bleeding and raw, before telling President Dante that he would heal in time. Bellamy, most of the other girls and four of the women were given crop duty after the Organic Mechanic left, and they were pulled away from the group kicking and screaming. The Reapers told Dante how one girl and one woman died on the way over. Octavia never found out who is was that died.

Dante looked at Costia long and hard; eyes scanning her and nitpicking at her every feature. Costia was thirteen and beautiful in a way that Octavia never could be—soft and gentle, like someone you would want to sing to you.

As he looked her over, Costia stood up, pulling Octavia up with her. Octavia still remembers how Costia came up to his shoulders and how she stood on her tiptoes to make herself taller, balancing precariously on the balls of her feet. “You took her brother. You killed her mother. We stay together. Do you hear me? We stay together.” Costia knew the common tongue better than anyone in their clan, although it was still heavily accented in Trigedasleng. The Reapers kicked them both down to their knees again. Costia spit at them and Octavia mimicked her.

It was quiet for a long time as Dante looked them over. He lifted their arms and made them put their feet up so he could inspect the bottoms. A Reaper called the Organic Mechanic back over and she inspected them too. The Reapers tore at their clothes until the two girls were naked in front of them all. Dr. Tsing inspected their privates and listened their hearts and lungs. Octavia still can’t remember if it took a few minutes, or a few hours. The doctor simply nodded at President Dante before he turned to his Reapers and said, “Wives.” By the afternoon heat, Costia and Octavia were branded and locked behind the vault door.

_________

Clarke’s introduced to the women as the man hands her a small saw. She doesn’t hear their names the first time they were said, too focused on getting her muzzle off. She picks them up soon though.

The pregnant one is Costia. She’s the most beautiful, when full round lips and long black hair that she occasionally weaves locks of into tiny braids that she immediately undoes. She has a patchwork of scars around her temple that only made her more beautiful, the contrast of white scar tissue against her tanned skin. Clarke eventually learns she is a half moon away from having her baby.

The girl who was leaning against the man and holding hands with Costia is Octavia. She bred true once, although Clarke does not know what that means. She has brown hair, done up in complex braids that Clarke couldn’t even begin to construct. She has dangerous eyes and twirls a butterfly knife in the backseat as her head rest against Costia’s shoulders. She and the man are brother and sister.

The dark one is Raven. She still has the bolt cutters in her hands, snapping them open and shut to amuse herself. Clarke can tell by her hands that she was a mechanic once. Her leg is in a brace that she occasionally tinkers with, screwing and unscrewing bolts and adjusting its positioning on her leg.

Charlotte is the littlest one. She has blonde hair and is small for her age, which Clarke guesses is about twelve. She has dainty hands that have probably never touched an engine.

The last girl is Maya, who has short black hair. The man tells Clarke that Maya was raised in the Mountain, where it was a great honor to be chosen for a wife. She turned her back on her people though, when she saw that Dante was not a god. He was just a man who liked to hurt his wives. She told them how they could escape. “My hero,” Costia sing-songs when this story gets told, and Maya smiles at her.

They are all wearing practically nothing—thin white clothes covering the bare minimum. Clarke isn’t much better, in a black bandeau that Reapers wrapped around her five times so it was tight and a flimsy skirt that covered half her thighs. Plus Finn’s jacket.

The man is Bellamy. He is scarred and his voice is rough. He’s not wearing a shirt, like most men Clarke saw at the Mountain, and his pants have a tiny hole in them that Clarke is fixating on. His tattoos on his arms tell tales of his bravery, of wars he fought and Reapers he led. One of the stories refers to a great compromise that he orchestrated between Gas Town and the Bullet Farm. The tattoos on his back are the most faded, but they look how Clarke’s felt when they were getting tattooed on, so she guesses it’s similar information. He was an Imperator, before he stole President Dante’s prized wives, but the tattoo tells of his crop knowledge and how he was captured.

They can hear the war drums and guitar in the distance. “We’ve got friends,” Raven says and points out the window towards a second war party that is joining up with President Dante’s.

Octavia takes the binoculars from her and counts the rigs. “Twelve cars and one War Rig, from Gas Town.” Bellamy curses loudly, which makes Charlotte shirk back into the seat and cling to Costia’s arm.

“There’s another,” Clarke says, pointing to the third war party, which is a long ways away. They all count ten cars with the Bullet Farmer’s logo, and two big rigs. Bellamy curses again. She finally saws through the muzzle and leans half her body out the window to throw it as hard as she can. It lands in the sand without a sound.

“I’ve arranged a way through the canyon. It should be safe enough, but just in case—Blood Bag, can you drive?” Clarke nods and adrenaline pumped into her veins. It’s feels like lifetimes since she’s driven, although truthfully it has probably only been a week.

“Good. If the Canyon Warriors kill me, you need to drive the rig out of there and keep going until you see green. Raven will keep it running for you.”

Clarke nods, even as Finn and Wells scream at her from the hood of the War Rig.

_________

Raven was run down on the Fury Road as she tried to fix her rig when she was fifteen. The Reapers came all at once, hollering about Olympus, a mountain in the sky, and their earth-god who would carry them there. She shot at them, and hit one. “Witness me,” he had shouted as he fell from his motorcycle spraying blood. The others called after him, and shot at her too. They caught her in the leg before they stuffed her into the trunk of one of their cars. She remembers how it felt to lay there—salty sweat and iron blood mixing, giving her something to focus on other than her desire to scream.

They pulled her from the trunk kicking and screaming. Her one leg was dead to her, stained red with blood, but she managed to kick in a few jaws with the other. They chained her wrists behind her back and her feet together. When they came close, she bit and snapped at them until they put a steel muzzle around her face.

President Dante came to see her. “We thought Blood Bag, maybe,” one of the Reapers said. “She can’t do manual labor on her leg.”

“No,” Dante answered. “I want her for a wife.” Raven’s heart began to race even faster than it already had been.

The Reapers were confused, their white paint cracking around their lips as they frowned. “A breeder? She’s an isolate psychotic, to be kept muzzled. Your children would be—“

“Fiercer than any of my sons,” Dante interrupted, “ready to take the world by forceful fire. Wife. Bring her to the vault and Dr. Tsing will look her over.”

They kept her chained and muzzled, but they were gentler while they carried her to the vault, taking care to avoid her red-stained leg. They prattled on about the honor of wifehood, how her children would be earth-gods ready to ascend to their thrones on the mountain in the sky, how she would one day be the mother of gods. She tuned them out and focused on biting her lip.

They deposited her on soft pillows in the vault. They bowed quickly to the three other women there, who were hiding in the shadows before leaving. When they left, the others came to her.

Costia was the oldest, eighteen. She explained to Raven in a rushed, quiet voice what her duties would be. “Bear him healthy sons and he will favor you. His favor doesn’t matter much though; it just means you’ll be ridden more often and harder than the rest.” Costia had fresh scars on her face and Raven couldn’t have begun to wonder where they came from. As she talked, they reopened and blood began to flow from her temple, dripping off her chin onto the floor.

Octavia was fifteen, same as Raven. She was three moons pregnant and had the same accented dialect as Costia, except hers was thicker. Her ankles had bruises around them, as if she had just gotten out of chains herself.

Maya was the last. She spoke worshipfully of President Dante, how he was the son of Olympus, the mountain in the sky and he was to lead his people to the promise land. “We are his treasures; we will ride beside our God King in Heaven with our children,” she said.

Costia sighed heavily at that and said, “ _Osir nou diyos_. We are not things. He is just a man and we are not treasures for him to horde.” She took Maya’s face in her hands and repeated, “ _Osir nou diyos_. We are not things, Maya.”

Dr. Tsing, a tall woman with skin darker than Raven’s, came into the vault then, escorted by two Reapers. The other wives went onto the balcony while Dr. Tsing examined her. She came back healthy and one of the reapers procured a brand that was tucked into his waistband. Raven struggled against her chains but eventually the reapers stilled her long enough to brand the back of her neck. They took the chains from her body, but left the muzzle around her face and clipped in a sharp chastity belt around her waist. The other wives held her and carried her into the pool of cold water, helping her to wash off her blood and making sure the water lapped at her fresh brand. Costia whispered nothings under her breath while Raven closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself driving far, far away from here.

_________

The War Parties are catching up with them quickly. Costia has her head bent down and is whispering prayers to her Many Mothers goddesses under her breath while Raven and Octavia help to load the guns. Charlotte is shaking and Maya holds her tightly while Bellamy teaches Clarke the rigs codes. _Red, red, black, up, down._ _Red, red, black, up, down._

In the middle of his instructions, Clarke gets shoved nearly out the window when the Reaper who stole her blood jumps into the cab and wraps the chain still attached to his wrist around Bellamy’s neck.

The wives spring up to save him—Octavia scratching at the Reaper’s eyes, Raven hammering him in the head with the butt of a rifle, Maya and Charlotte biting down on his arms hard enough to draw blood and Costia grabbing at his hands to get him to release the chain.

Bellamy eventually whips around as Clarke climbs into the driver’s seat. He grabs a pistol and holds it up against the Reaper’s neck. The Reaper shouts excitedly, “You cannot escape him! He is the God of men! He sees all, hears all, knows all! He will chase you to the salt’s end!”

Costia puts her hands over Bellamy’s and tries to shove the gun away from the Reaper’s neck. “No unnecessarily killings! You promised!”

“He tried to kill me; it’s not unnecessary,” Bellamy argues back as he struggles to keep the gun against the Reaper.

“Let us handle him,” she says and pushes him back in the front seat. He nearly lands on Clarke’s lap and they trade places so that he’s back in the driver’s seat.

“Treasures! His treasures! You will ride beside him in Heaven! Why would you run? You cannot escape him!” The Reaper shouts at them as they push him out the door. He’s nearly upside down, his head just a few inches from the burning sand below. Costia and Octavia cling to him.

“He’s a cruel old man who destroys everyone and everything,” Octavia shouts and spits on him.

“You’re wrong! He’s our savior; he built a mountain in the sand, he gives us water, he gives us food. He is the God of men!”

“The God of men?” Costia laughs without humor before screaming, “ _Chon teik au graun_?” She and Octavia give him a hard push out of the cab and falls headfirst into the sand. They sit back in the cab as Maya closes the door, and the wives all gossip excitedly as they close ranks around Octavia and Costia.

Their exhilaration eventually dies down as the canyon draws closer and closer. “The arrangement I made was just for me and the rig, in exchange for a thousand gallons of guzzoline so you all need to stay out of sight,” Bellamy says and the wives open a latch at their feet and crawl into a compartment underneath. “You too,” Bellamy tells Clarke and she climbs in after them. She just barely hides her head, getting ready to spring into the driver’s seat if Bellamy needs it.

“I’ll just shout your name if you need to start driving so—“

“What about you?” Octavia asks. “We’re not leaving you.” She looks fierce, daring in her eyes.

“I’ll run beside the rig and climb in through the other door, so be ready to pull me up.” Octavia apparently can’t see a flaw in the plan so she nods. “What’s your name, Blood Bag, so I know what to yell?”

Clarke shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Yell anything.” Everyone she’s told her name to has turned up dead—Finn and Wells and her father and them all.

He rolls her eyes. “Fine _princess._ I’ll yell anything.” He shoves the compartment door closed before she can say anything back.

The compartment is dark and even hotter than the rig was; the sand and dust are suffocating. Charlotte and Octavia have their head bent together and Octavia is showing her a trick with her butterfly knife. Costia has her hands on her stomach and her face was screwed. “Are you okay?” Clarke asks. She remembers once a long time ago when she wanted to be a doctor, before her hands were bloodstained and death-tainted. She thinks she remembers helping her mother delivery babies. Costia exhales sharply and nods.

“She’s in labor,” Octavia says without looking away from her knife. “It was like this with her firstborn too, her breathing.”

Costia looks at Octavia and whispers _traitor_ at her fondly. “It’s okay,” Costia says. “It just started. It’ll be a long time before it’s ready.”

“It’s too early though,” Charlotte says. “It’s a half moon early. It’s too early. It can’t happen now, Costia.”

“We can’t do anything about that.” Costia cradles Charlotte’s face with one hand as she speaks, her other hand still rubbing her stomach.

The rig comes to a sudden stop and they all jerk forward. They can only hear one side of the conversation, which sounds like it is going sour. Bellamy is arguing about the War Parties on their trail. “Drop the rocks,” he shouts, frustrated and worried. They yell something back at him before he said, “Drop the rocks now or the War Parties will be here!” It’s quiet for a moment before Clarke hears him yell _Princess!_

She springs up from their hiding place and slams on the gas, clicking _red,_ _red, black, up, down_ as she goes. The Canyon Warriors are shooting at them; bits of shattered glass spraying her in the face as she ducks away. The wives pull Bellamy up and before long they’re all back in the cab of the rig. Raven and Maya take up guns and begin shooting at the Canyon Warriors who are throwing explosives at them. Charlotte sits on the floor beside Costia’s feet and closes her eyes while Costia runs her fingers through Charlotte’s hair. Octavia climbs into the front and holds onto Bellamy’s pants as he opens the door and leans far out to shoot.

The ground begins to quake and there’s a deafening sound that Clarke doesn’t realize is the rocks falling until a minute later. The Canyon Warriors scatter shortly after and for a moment Clarke thinks that they’re in the clear until President Dante’s war rig drives up next to them.

Clarke can see in her mirrors that he’s aiming his gun at Bellamy, who is distracted with reloading. Clarke is about to shove him out of the way when Costia and Octavia open the back door and shield Bellamy with their bodies. Costia is hanging out the rig, her dainty feet barely finding a grip against the hot metal while Octavia holds tightly to her body.

“Costia! Octavia! You’re my property! My treasures!” Clarke can hear Dante shouting.

“We are not things!” They shout back in unison as Bellamy fits his gun between their shoulders and shoots twice at Dante, who veers to avoid the bullets.

Clarke is too distracted by the exchange to notice the rock formation they’re about to ram into until Charlotte screeches “Look out!” Clarke swerves jerkily to avoid the rocks, but the door Costia is hanging out of hits it. Octavia screams.

_________

Before Costia was taken, she had Lexa. Lexa knew more about Costia than anyone else, even more than Costia’s own grandmother. She and Lexa were born in the same room, just a few hours apart; their mothers held hands and helped the other with their labor. They had the same initiating mother, went through every ritual together, followed each other night and day, fell asleep holding hands.

When they were thirteen, two moons before Costia was taken, they explore each other’s bodies. The many mothers said they were too young, but it felt as natural to touch Lexa’s body as it did her own. Lexa was her heart song, her soul match. They had done everything too early together—climbed their first tree at two, bled together at nine, touched each other at thirteen. When she closes her eyes, she can still smell Lexa—sweat and dirt and strawberries all rolled up into one perfect perfume.

She remembers being taken with perfect clarity. She fell asleep in an apple tree holding hands with Lexa who was sleeping on a different branch the night before. They were both awakened by sounds of gunfire and screaming, smoke filling their lungs. Costia had never heard a gunshot before that; she remembers the clear _crack_ that rang out over the orchard. Lexa grabbed a knife from her boot and jumped from the tree, sprinting towards the shooting without a word to Costia. Costia will never forget the way her knife gleamed in the moonlight, how she could see the knife so clearly even when Lexa was just a silhouette.

She was shaking with fear but ran towards the village anyway, barefoot and sleepy and clothed in a flimsy sheet. There was fire everywhere, explosions that broke their clay houses apart into a thousand pieces. She saw people burning; her initiating mother Anya was trying to extinguish a flame consuming her arm. Costia promised herself that she would come back to Anya as soon as she found her grandmother.

She crawled on the ground towards the fire her grandmother tended. She found her there, a bullet in her neck. She was covered in blood—blood on her lips and drowning the soil next to her. She put her fingers inside the bullet hole, remembering a story she heard once about a boy who stopped a flood. She prayed to the _meini nomons_ in the sky, over and over until she was praying without thought. She didn’t hear the Reapers come up behind her, didn’t feel their hands on her until they were pulling her up by her waist, didn’t hear their laughing until their breaths were hot in her ear. She screamed then and reached to claw at their faces, but they shoved her in the backseat before she could do any damage. The sun was breaking on the horizon.

Octavia was in the backseat already, huddled away from the open door, tears streaking down her face. She was only ten, but Costia didn’t like her. She followed all the older girls around constantly, asking for common tongue lessons and telling which seed was which and betting them all that her brother Bellamy could beat them in tree climbing.

Now though, her brother was tied to the back of a car, about to dragged across the salt, and Octavia was alone in the world for the first time in her life. Costia sat next to her, held her as they cried and prayed to the _meini nomons_ together. Octavia eventually tired herself out from sobbing and mercifully fell asleep before she could hear Bellamy start screaming about burns and cuts on her feet and his body slumped into the sand and dragged along.

When they got to the mountain, they were pulled roughly from the cars and deposited at Dante’s feet. The Reapers chattered happily about their god-king, excited to be back in his presence. He didn’t look like a god or a king to Costia, just a sickly man who couldn’t even breathe on his own. When the others got torn away from the two of them, Octavia looked at her with wide eyes, scared of what was to come. Something welled up in Costia and she stood in front of her captor. The Reapers tried to push her back to her knees but she screamed in Dante’s face, demanding that she and Octavia stay together.

(It was her fault that Octavia became a wife. She was pretty and sweet but Costia would later learn that he almost never took them that young. She had probably been destined to help attend to the milk mothers, but Costia stole that from her that day. They were branded and thrown behind a locked door and Octavia wasn’t supposed to be. Costia knew she would carry that with her until she died.)

There was one other woman in the vault they were thrown in to. Roma.

She was older than Costia, had already seen twenty winters. She was pregnant and moving awkwardly the way that Costia knew women did just before they gave birth. She was beautiful and kindly and rubbed a special ointment into their fresh brands until they no longer burned. She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue. Costia loved her.

They were only there for nine days before Roma went into labor. Dr. Tsing was away with a War Rig, attending to something in the Bullet Farm.

“Can’t we call for him to help us? Won’t he know what to do?” Octavia had asked, panic setting into her voice. She had never helped with a birth before, did not know the ins and outs of it like Costia did.

“He’ll never come in,” Roma said through her heavy breathing. “He can’t stand the wailing of childbirth, and blood makes him sick. My daughter, he didn’t come in for her either.”

Costia told her to squat and reached down to see how dilated Roma was. She told her to push, and push until finally a son was delivered to her. He didn’t wail into the night though, didn’t sprawl his limbs like he was supposed to. He was silent and still and dead.

The Reapers took him away and after Costia and Octavia had bathed Roma and put her to bed, they both fall asleep themselves.

The next day they are awakened by the Reapers hauling in boxes.

“What’s going on?”

“Roma, his treasure, his wife, jumped to her death last night, off the balcony so she could be with her son in Olympus,” one of the Reapers says as he gathers Roma’s sketchbook and flings it carelessly into a box.

Roma, dead. Grandmother, dead. Bellamy and Lexa and the others, probably dead or on their way. Costia wished she could join them, for one burning moment before she looked at Octavia and felt ashamed to have even thought it.

_________

The dust from the rocks is blinding, getting in their eyes and making them swell with tears. Octavia is screaming Costia’s name over and over, hanging out the empty doorframe with her hands scratching the rig. She might be crying. Clarke doesn’t know what grief sounds like these days, when it’s loud and messy and the ghosts are in someone else’s eyes. Finn and Wells are laughing at her from the hood of the rig. Clarke tries to look past them. Octavia is still screaming.

Maya and Raven have their arms around Octavia and are trying to pull her back inside the rig. Maya gives one final tug that makes Octavia fall backwards. Clarke looks in the rearview mirror and the girls in the backseat are crying and pulling at their hair and scratching their faces.

Except Octavia. She looks mad. She grabs Clarke by the jacket and pulls her in close to her face. “Go back for her! He flipped his rig, she might still be there! Go back for her!”

“She hit the rocks,” Clarke says, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Did you see it?” Bellamy asks. His eyes are red—from raw grief or the dust, Clarke isn’t sure. It’s grossly fascinating to her and she finds herself staring for a moment too long.

“She hit the rocks.”

Octavia falls backwards and wails, kicking Clarke’s seat over and over. The dust finally settles as the girls sob in the back.

Octavia hears her first, then Raven. Charlotte next, then Maya. Clarke doesn’t hear her until the other wives have pulled her completely into the backseat of the rig.

“I hit the rocks,” Costia says, fresh scrapes across her cheek and shoulders. They’re raw and bleeding and now there’s red on her white dress. Clarke finds herself distracted by it while Costia is talking. Wells puts his hand on her bloody shoulder and smears her blood on his face. “I fell backwards and was about to hit the ground but I managed to hitch my foot on top of a pipe on the side of the rig. I grabbed onto something and waited there until I could catch my breath again. There was dirt everywhere so I didn’t even know which way I was facing.”

She pauses for a moment to kiss Charlotte’s forehead and Maya’s eyelids. Raven holds her hand tightly and Octavia wraps herself up close to Costia, resting her head on her good shoulder. Bellamy has his arm reached behind him in a way Clarke knows is uncomfortable so that he can rest his hand on Costia’s knee.

“Also, remember when I said that the baby wasn’t coming for a few hours? I lied about that.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchange a glance. ”I’m a medic,” Clarke says, the words sounding wrong in her mouth. She was training to be a doctor a thousand years ago, before the end of her world.

Bellamy moves to sit in her seat while Clarke moves into the back.

The birth goes very quick; Costia pushing at the right times and breathing correctly. She barely makes a sound when her daughter is finally pushed into the world, speeding along at forty kilometers per hour across the sand. Octavia hands her to Costia without a word, a wistful look her face as she runs her finger over the baby’s cheek.

Charlotte rips off part of her skirt to clean the newborn off with and Maya hands Costia her armband to put on as a diaper.

“What will you call her? Costia, she has to have a name. What’ll it be?” Charlotte asks and runs her fingers through the baby’s black hair.

Costia is quiet for a long time, looking out the window while the baby cries. Her face is alight from the setting sun. She puts her thumb up out the window towards the rising moon and closes one of her eyes. “Luna,” she says quietly, as if testing the name. “Luna.” Again, more confidently. “Her name will be Luna.” She hands the baby to Octavia and falls asleep.

_________

Maya was brought to them on the same day that Bellamy led the War Rig to the Bullet Farm. The Reapers needed more and they were exchanging mother’s milk and aquacola.

She was barefoot like the rest of them, but had more clothes. A long white dress covered her feet and shoulders. The Reapers were gentle with her and when they branded her, she grit her teeth together and didn’t cry out. She thanked them afterwards.

Raven and Octavia hung back, trying to size up the little girl brought before them. She was young, probably hadn’t even bled yet. Costia wondered if she was stolen from her home like her or if she was traded for supplies like Roma had been or run down on the Fury Road like Raven. She looked nervous for the first time when she spotted them all staring at her.

Costia took pity on her and went over to her. Without speaking, she took Maya’s hand and led her to the water. Costia stepped in and tried to lead Maya in, but she shook her head.

“I…This is my mother’s dress. I don’t want to ruin it, let me take it off.”

Costia was silent and gentle and when the dress got caught on Maya’s earring Octavia helped her maneuver it off. She took Maya’s hand with a smile and helped her into the water. They made sure to get her brand under the cold water.

“This is the first time I’ve been in water like this,” Maya said. “Aren’t we so lucky that we get to be his wives?”

Costia and Octavia exchanged a glance before Raven says, “Oh yeah, we’re so lucky that we got kidnapped and forced to have sex with a creepy old man. I feel so lucky.”

“You should,” Maya says fiercely and stands in the water. “He is the Earth God who will take us to Olympus, the mountain in the sky. And we will ride beside him as his wives, mothers to his children!”

“Maya, where are you from?” Costia asks, gently coaxing her back into the water. She doesn’t know if water is good for burns like they have but any tiny relief is better than nothing.

“I’m from here, the mountain.”

Octavia muttered profanities under her breath in Trigedasleng.

Maya continued talking for the rest of the afternoon about Olympus and her god and the rest of them tuned her out as they spent the rest of the afternoon reading or playing piano or napping. Costia eventually corralled them all into bed when the sun sets and they start yawning. She also managed to stop Raven from pushing Maya off the balcony so she counted it as a good day.

He came late in the night, held Costia down and told her to be quiet so she wouldn’t wake the others. He told her about the trade with the Bullet Farm as he took her. When he was finally finished he went to Maya and ran a finger down her sleeping face before kissing Costia’s temple and leaving.

When she heard the vault locks click into place she got up and went over the small mirror that they have. She lit the oil lamp and got the knife from under her bed where she hid it. She took one deep breath and put the knife to the spot on her face where she could still feel his cold lips touching her hot skin. She cut careful deep lines because she knew the scars would make him angry. She got chained for it in the beginning, but eventually Dante realized that he couldn’t stop her so nowadays he spits and curses her when he sees fresh wounds.

Maya was sitting next to her before Costia realized that she’s even awake. “Why are you doing that?” Maya said gently, as if trying not to spook a wild animal.

Costia continued as she talks. “Maya, someday you’ll snap out of worshipping Dante and you’ll realize that he’s an evil old man. He thinks he owns us. Maya, _osir nou diyos_. We are not things. He can’t own us.” She sighed and put the knife down, blood running down her face. “When I do this, I’m reminding him that he doesn’t control me.”

“He’s the God-King. He owns us all.” Maya said, simply and sadly, as if she pitied Costia.

Costia sighed and left Maya in the bedroom as she went to the pool to wash the blood off of her.

_________

The baby is quiet. Costia has been drifting in and out of sleep, feeding Luna when she’s awake but otherwise not paying much attention to her. Octavia thinks she’s in denial about a daughter. Costia prayed nearly every waking moment to the _meini nomons_ for the past few months for a son. Her first son, born only 11 months after they were branded and married to Dante, fell down the rocky stairs when he was four and died. She saw him on his birthday every year and Octavia knew she had elaborate fantasies about the green place and raising her second son there, among the wildflowers and with Lexa by her side. But now she has a daughter, not the perfect son she imagined and Octavia thinks Costia feels lost.

A flash of anger wells up inside of Octavia and she shoves the baby into Charlotte’s arms. She wants to shake Costia, bite and scratch and scream at her that doesn’t Costia realize that Octavia would do anything to hold her own daughter? She sits in her anger, picking at her nails and the ends of her hair as Luna starts crying in Charlotte’s uneasy arms.

Bellamy shoves a bag into the backseat and says, “We need someone to match every gun to every bullet. They’re catching up with us and we don’t want to be scrambling.” Raven takes the bag and begins to sort as Costia stirs awake. “Princess, take over for me, I’m gonna go do some repairs in the back.”

“I can do it,” Octavia says, already climbing over Maya’s lap to get out the door.

“No, I want you all to stay together.”

“Bellamy,” Octavia says sharply, “I’m going.” She leaves out the door without giving him the chance to argue.

Doing the repairs calms her down. They’re easy, just tightening loose screws in the back of the rig and checking for leaking liquids. She opens the valve for mother’s milk and drinks in the hot milk, which reminds her of some forgotten moments from childhood, lingering on the edges of her memory.

She goes to the back of the rig to make sure there aren’t any weapons back there and she comes across the Reaper they flung from the rig hours ago.

_________

When Lincoln was still a little boy, he dreamed of driving the War Rig. Reapers weren’t allowed to have dreams, or love for anyone but President Dante, but in his secret mind he had elaborate fantasies of being behind the wheel, free and open on the Fury Road.

President Dante promised a full life after death, being led into the gates of Olympus like conquerors, dining at the table of history’s heroes. Lincoln was still in his half-life, did not know the heroes’ names or what they looked like. But still. He was awaited.

He remembers being held down as a child, cut open in elaborate designs that foretold Dante’s ride in Olympus and picking at the scabs for weeks afterwards. He still has the scars on his chest; constant reminders that he will someday be a full life, if his lumps and bumps didn’t get him before he could die historic.

It had been his idea to tie the blood bag to the front of the car, ripping his steering wheel out of Nyko’s hands and insisting that he could drive. It was stupid of him, to take an isolate psychotic on the Fury Road, but his adrenaline was racing and every idea seemed like a good one, if it brought back the wives.

Breeders. His prized breeder. Why would they run? They were awaited a seat in Olympus next to President Dante and their sons. Why would they leave him?

After the chase and the accident, Lincoln woke up with a mouthful of sand and the War Rig in the distance. It was driving slowly though so he ran as fast as his poisoned blood and lumps and bumps would let him and eventually stowed away in the undercarriage of the truck until he gathered his strength back to him. The wives were there in the truck—so shiny and chrome, like nothing he had ever seen before. Their hair shone in the sun and their skin glistened with sweat. One of them laughed and Lincoln thought that Olympus would be filled with those exact sounds day in and day out.

He jumped into the cab and wrapped the chain around Imperator Bellamy’s neck; he wanted to snuff out the life of the man who stole President Dante’s prized wives. How could he? Didn’t he know he was condemning them to an afterlife outside of Olympus—to be left wandering the earth as lost souls?

They pulled him off of Imperator Bellamy and threw him from the cab. Their hands burned on his skin; he was unworthy to touch things so shiny and chrome, in their full lives.

He tore Costia’s armband off of her and carried it with him until President Dante called upon him to jump onto the War Rig and kill Impetrator Bellamy. President Dante took it from his hands and put it close to his face, smelling her sweet sweat, and he smiled before sending Lincoln onto the rig. He sprayed Lincoln silver, making him shiny and chrome for Olympus.

After Lincoln nearly falls off the rig and President Dante drives away from him, leaving him to die an unwitnessed death as the Canyon Warriors set off bombs all around him. Lincoln found a corner in the back of the War Rig to sit and rot and die.

He was shaken out of his trance by one of the wives. “What are you doing back here?” She asked, her voice like a song. She licked her lips and Lincoln swooned.

He thought back to President Dante driving off without witnessing him, and Lincoln became to bang his head against the hot metal. She put her hand underneath his head. Her skin was smooth and soft.

“Stop, stop that,” she said gently, as if not to spook him.

Lincoln’s voice shook like it never had before. “He saw me fall, left me to die unwitnessed. The gates to Olympus were opened to me, but now they’ve closed forever. I should be feasting with history’s heroes.”

She laid down beside him. She felt warm and he could smell her breath when she spoke. “I'd say it was your manifest destiny not to.”

“I thought I was destined for something great.”

“Maybe you still are. Maybe you’re meant to help us get to the green place.”

He thought about helping them as they laid together in silence, the hum of the War Rig underneath them.

_________

Night falls, and Clarke takes over driving. The girls are in the backseat have their heads bent together, giggling and exchanging jokes, and Bellamy leans out the window to check on the war parties behind them. “They’re a ways away,” he says when he gets back in the cab. “We should be fine for a while.”

The sand starts to turn into mud as the night gets darker.

“Look,” Charlotte says and points out the window. They look out and see people on stilts hunched over combing the mud as crows caw from the dead trees.

“Creepy,” Raven says, rolling a bullet in her hands. Maya hums in agreement.

They get a few miles down the road before the rig gets stuck in the mud. Costia fashions a sling and hops out of the rig with Luna strapped to her back before the others follow. They pull off spare metal sheets from the underside of the rig and the doors off the cab and try to jam them underneath the tires until they hear shots firing out and see sand springing up from the bullets.

Charlotte screeches and Luna starts crying. “They’re shooting us, Bellamy!” Charlotte screams. “Why are they shooting us? Bellamy, do they know they’re shooting us?”

Bellamy pulls the metal sheet in front of him and Charlotte as Octavia and Raven duck behind a door. Clarke, Maya, and Costia hide behind another metal sheet. “Does anyone have a gun?” Bellamy shouts out to them as the shots continue to ring out.

Before anyone can answer, the rig starts driving away. Bellamy and Clarke exchange a look, making sure that it’s neither of them before running after the rig, crouching behind their metal sheets. It gets stuck in the mud again after rolling over the metal.

Octavia runs out in front of them, holding up her hands to stop them. “He wants to help!” She says before running towards the driver’s seat. The reaper that had stolen Clarke’s blood was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“We threw him off the rig!” Costia says, holding Luna close and running towards Octavia “What’s he even doing here?”

“He can help! Lincoln knows how to drive the rig; he’s a revhead!”

“There’s high ground—just beyond that thing!” Lincoln says excitedly and points towards the hill ahead.

“He means the tree,” Octavia explains.

“Yeah! The tree! I'll use the winch! Around the tree thing.”

The gunfire is getting closer and the Bullet Farmer’s rig is within sight down. Bellamy takes two quick shots towards the rig’s light that miss. “You have one left!” Raven says as the wives try to help Lincoln secure the winch around the tree.

Clarke crowds Bellamy and says, “I can make that shot.” He looks at her for a long moment before handing her the gun. She steadies it on his shoulder and shoots. She takes out the headlight. The rig slows down some and the shooting stops, but the rig is still barreling towards them.

Lincoln hops back in the cab as the wives and Bellamy start shoving more metal underneath the wheels, desperate for traction. Clarke knows that if they’re caught she and Bellamy and Lincoln will be killed, but the other girls will be dragged back to the mountain to be held captive. She grabs some of the guns and rounds of bullets from the cab as Lincoln slams hard the gas. The rig lurches forward as Clarke jumps out of the cab.

“Get over the hill,” she tells Bellamy, “if I’m not back in three minutes then go on without me.” He nods.

She runs to the Bullet Farmer, shrouded in the darkness of night. Finn and Wells run beside her, screaming and clawing at her face and ripping at her clothes.

When she returns, the Bullet Farmer and his reapers are dead, blown to bits by her explosive and the rig is over the hill. The wives are filling up buckets of water and white stuff and handing them to Lincoln and Bellamy on the hood of the car, who are using the liquids to cool the engines.

“Are you hurt?” Raven asks when she sees that Clarke has returned.

“You’re bleeding,” Maya says, gesturing to Clarke’s face.

Clarke is confused. Finn is there, scratching at her face and Wells is there too, yelling at her from on top of the rig.

“It’s not her blood,” Bellamy says.

Clarke shakes her head, trying to get Finn and Wells to go away. “What is that?” She asks, pointing to the white stuff.

“It’s mother’s milk,” Raven says and offers her bucket full of it to Clarke. She splashes the hot milk on her face and sees it turning red in the bucket.

After the engines cool, they all pile back into the cab, Octavia sitting on Lincoln’s lap and Bellamy driving. The wives and Lincoln all fall asleep and soon Clarke does too.

She dreams of fire and blood. Of Finn’s blood on her hands after she killed him when he was suffering. Of the fire that consumed Wells’ body in their camp. She dreams that it was them on the Bullet Farmer’s rig, that she killed them and walked away with their blood on her face.

She jerks awake and murmurs _sorry_ to Bellamy for startling him.

“It’s okay. Get some sleep Princess.”

She looks out the window for a long time, swaying back and forth as they cross the sandy terrain. “What is this Green Place? How do you know it even exists?”

“I’m from there. Me and Octavia and Costia.”

“Why did you leave?”

“We didn’t. We were stolen away from there, with some of our other clanswomen when we were children.”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Many times,” he says. “But now I have Octavia with me, and I drive a War Rig. It’s the best chance I’ll ever get.”

“What about the rest of them? Raven and Maya and Charlotte?”

“They’re looking for hope—all of them, even Costia and Octavia.”

“And you? What are you looking for?”

“Redemption.”

_________

Octavia didn’t see Bellamy for five years after being taken as a breeder, although the Reapers that tended to the wives occasionally brought tall tales of his heroism—how he stopped a would-be assassin from killing the breeders, how President Dante lifted him up through the years from simple crop grower to driver of a War Rig. Bellamy was one his finest Imperators, leading the charge against warring peoples and making supply runs to Gas Town and the Bullet Farm. It made Octavia sad when she thought of her gentle brother with blood on his hands. She was proud too, that he did not become one of the Wretched, forever begging for a drop of water and making a home in the rocky sand.

President Dante didn’t allow men inside his wives’ chamber, except a few of his Reapers, but the night before when he finished riding Raven he ran his fingers through Octavia’s hair and whispered that he had a special treat for her. “I don’t know if you’ll remember,” he said, hot breath getting on Octavia’s ear, “but you had a brother once. He’ll come visit you tomorrow.” He double checked the wives’ chastity belts to make sure they were locked and he took his leave; Reapers followed him, taking care to step where he stepped in the hopes that they might receive some of his glory.

(She pitied the Reapers in some ways—they didn’t even realize how they were being used. They were nothing more than _diyos_ to Dante.)

Bellamy was older now. It should have come as no surprise, but it still took Octavia back—his cropped hair grown long and curly, tattoos up and down his arms that told of his heroism and his original information tattooed on his back. ( _Day 5840, Ht. 8 hands, 147 lbs, Name: Bellamy, No Lumps, No Bumps, Full Life Clear, Good eyes, Semi-Busted Feet, Piss OK, Genitals Intact, Multiple Scars, Average Healing, CROP KNOWLEDGE, Group Captured on the Fury Road, No Guzzoline, Many Supplies._ )He wore no shirt and where his belly had once been soft it was now lean and muscled. He had one long scar down the side of his ribs. He smiled at her with his mouth closed tight, still standing in the doorway of the vault.

She stood by the balcony, and Costia shooed the other wives into their bedroom so they were alone.

“You’re really pregnant.”

It’s not a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes. Three moons away.” She felt embarrassed suddenly, as if she wanted to hide.

“The Mountain is excited; all the Wretched and Reapers are buzzing with the news. He told us all five days ago.”

“I’m glad someone is excited.”

“He’ll take the baby, right? When it’s born?”

“When _he’s_ born. It’ll be a boy. Costia has prayed to the _meini nomons_ every day and night for a son. But yes. Dante will take him away, right after he’s cleaned. He’ll be taken to the Milk Mothers for his feedings, and a Reaper will care for him otherwise.”

“You’ll never see him again?”

“Costia’s son was brought to her once a year before he died, for an afternoon.”

“Can’t you get rid of it? With a wire or something?”

“I tried twice early on, but it didn’t work. Every day he grows stronger. A baby warlord.” She didn’t mention that Dante caught her the second time and chained her to her bed for two moons.

Bellamy frowned then and it was quiet, as if he was unsure what to say. His hands were balled into fists and he began chewing on his lip. He loved her. She made him sad and angry.

She waved him over and they sat together on the balcony, basking in the morning breeze. “What’s it like on the Fury Road?” She asked. “I can always see your rig when it’s leaving, if I lean across the balcony at the right angle.”

He smiled then. “It’s better than being stuck on the Mountain. The Reapers can be annoying when they get all hopped up on Dante worship. But mostly it’s okay. It’s a lot of negotiating with Gas Town and the Bullet Farm.”

They talked for hours, Costia eventually coming out to join them. Bellamy’s visits were allowed to become a weekly thing after that, the three of them laughing and whispering in their native tongue. As her belly swelled, Raven and Maya joined them as well, learning their language and talking about the green place.

Octavia had her baby on the night of a full moon, with Dante pacing outside the vault. He was never there for the births, Roma had told Costia and Octavia before she died. _He can’t stand the wailing of childbirth._ Octavia remembers very little of the birth, besides Costia’s screaming for the Organic Mechanic to do something and her hands coming away red with blood. She remembers hearing a child cry into the night before passing out.

When she woke, she asked about her son.

“A daughter, it was daughter with full lungs, and good limbs,” Maya said. She sounded confused.

“A daughter?” Octavia slurred. “No, I had a son.”

“No, a girl, it was a girl,” Maya said again. “He dropped her into the pool until she couldn’t breathe. I tried to stop him but Costia held me back. Why did he do that?” Maya was a child, only thirteen. A new wife, she had only bled twice times and hadn’t been ridden yet. She did not know yet that President Dante would not keep his daughters, only interested in little warlords.

“Enough Maya,” Costia said; her voice harsher than Octavia had heard in years. “Sleep now, Octavia. You need strength.”

“She’s dead? He killed her?” Octavia’s voice spoke without her permission. She did not care about this child, until she learned of her death. Suddenly she cared very much.

It was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” Raven says, smoothing Octavia’s hair in her rough hands. “She didn’t struggle in the water. It was very quick.”

“Enough, both of you,” Costia said sharply. “Out, get out.” She screamed at them until they left the room. Costia prayed over Octavia’s body to the _meini nomons_ until Octavia fell back asleep.

_________

The sun breaks over the horizon the next morning and Bellamy is sleeping in the passenger seat, snoring softly. Luna is whimpering and Octavia has her, whispering sweet nothings to her.

There’s a light shining in the distance, reflecting the sun. “Hey, what’s that?” Clarke says to Octavia, pointing to the tower where the light is reflecting.

“I think I remember something like that,” Octavia says, excitedly. “Hey Bell, wake up!” She kicks his seat. “Bellamy!”

Clarke turns towards the tower as Bellamy and the others stir awake. Costia and Octavia begin to chatter excitedly. “I know this!” Costia says, “I definitely know this.” Bellamy joins in, agreeing with them both.

They get to the tower and see a naked woman at the top, screaming for help. “No,” Clarke says, “That is bait.”

“ _Osir nou diyos_ ,” Bellamy says and jumps from the cab, Octavia and Costia at his heels. Octavia shoves Luna in Maya’s arms before jumping out. “Stay in the cab,” Costia warns.

Bellamy approaches with his hands up. “My name is Bellamy! I'm one of the Grounders! From the Many Mothers!” He shouts at the woman. “My initiate mother was Indra! I am the son of Aurora Blake. My clan was Sky Crew!”

Octavia repeats his words and Costia says, “I am Costia! My initiate mother was Anya! My clan was Tree Crew!”

The woman stops screaming for help, jumping up. She makes an animal call and climbs down the tower. She finds a dress at the bottom and throws it on as she runs to Costia. As other women descend on them on motorcycles, the woman hugs Costia hard enough to tackle her to the ground.

Clarke, Lincoln and the other wives get out of the cab and hear Costia say, “Lexa?”

The other women stand back, talking amongst themselves. “Could it be?” They ask.

One woman approaches Octavia and says, “There is something in her eyes. Maybe she is Aurora’s daughter.”

Lexa helps Costia stand up before putting her hands on Costia’s shoulders. “This is my Costia. I would know her anywhere. If she’s Costia then they are Bellamy and Octavia.”

The woman next to Octavia turns to Bellamy. “How long has it been?”

“Two thousand five hundred and fifty five days. Plus the ones we can’t remember.”

“Where have you been?” Lexa demands of Costia, her eyes wide and wild.

“The Mountain. West. Beyond the canyons,” Costia says.

“The others,” One women in the back with black kohl around her eyes says, “who are they?”

“Anya, the women are my sister brides,” Costia says. “Except that one—“ she points to Clarke “—she was stray. The man is trustworthy. He helped us get here. The baby is mine.”

Lexa looks at her strangely and sadly. “Your baby?”

Costia hums yes and clings harder to Lexa’s hand.

Anya approaches Charlotte and runs her fingers through her hair. “Where did you find such creatures?”

The other women start to circle the wives and Clarke, picking at them and laughing when the wives began to play to biting their fingers.

“Indra,” Bellamy says to the woman close to Octavia, “I can’t wait for them to see it. Costia and I have been talking about it for years.”

“See what?” Indra says.

“Home,” Bellamy says, as though it should be obvious, “The green place.”

Indra looks at him like he’s confusing her. “But if you came from the west, then you already passed it.”

Bellamy and Costia exchange looks, panic settling into their eyes.

“The crows,” Charlotte says, sounding despaired, “the creepy place with all the crows.”

“When you were taken, the fires took most of our crops,” Lexa says.

“And the soil, it turned sour. We couldn’t grow anything,” Anya says.

“The water turned to filth and then the crows came and we had to leave,” Indra says. The three women all talk on top of one another.

Charlotte sobs once, and Raven takes her hand. “Where are the others?” Charlotte asks, “The Many Mothers?”

“We’re all that’s left,” Lexa says. “People were killed when you were taken, or they died from the poisoned water.”

Bellamy walks away from the group. Octavia is hyperventilating and Costia is digging her fingernails into Lexa’s hand. Bellamy walks out onto the sand and screams, sounding like a wounded animal.

_________

The rest of the day was spent driving to the Many Mothers’ camp and unloading the War Rig. After that, Lincoln, the Blood Bag and Raven sat on the hood of the War Rig repairing engines, Octavia never straying too far from Lincoln’s side and Bellamy doing the same with Octavia. Raven was worried about him, but she knew that he felt calmer near Octavia’s side.

When night fell, the Many Mothers and the wives all sat together, watching the stars, while Bellamy and the Blood Bag sat together in the War Rig’s cab. Lincoln was still working on the engine. Costia and Lexa were off in their own little world, taking a walk around the camp’s perimeter with Luna strapped to Lexa’s back.

Raven was drinking milk warmed over the fire. The Many Mothers lent them clothes and so now Raven has a beaded band wrapping around her head and a black shawl draped around her shoulders to keep her warm during the desert night.

“Look, a shooting star!” Charlotte says and the rest of the wives _oo_ and _ahh_ at it.

“See the bright one up there, the one that’s moving?” Indra says. “That’s the space station. Before the Water Wars and the Oil Wars, there were people who lived up there. They manned the station and sent the information back down to Earth.”

“Do you think there’s anyone still sending people up there?” Maya asks, soft and unsure, after a moment.

Indra hums. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”

“I think there are,” Charlotte says, confident and sure in a way that Raven has never seen her before. “Somewhere on the other side of the world it’s not like this.”

Charlotte’s hope hurts in a way that Raven didn’t expect so she gets up and walks away from the group, towards the motorcycles. She starts to take one apart to see the engine when Anya approaches her. “What do you think you're doing?” She asks.

“Just looking,” Raven says, still tinkering with the engine. “I can put it back together again; don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Anya says with a smile, “just curious.”

Sickness comes over Raven suddenly and she steps away quickly to vomit on the ground. She kicks sand over to cover it up and groans. “All my morning sickness comes at night.”

“You having a baby?” Anya asks.

“Baby Warlord,” Raven says, “Gonna have three heads or twelve arms or something. All his kids are half-life, in one way or another, except Luna and Octavia’s daughter that died. The radiation poisoned him; Costia said so.”

“Maybe it’s just his daughters that are perfect,” Anya says, fiddling with a bag on the back of her bike.

“Yeah maybe,” Raven says. “What’s in the bag?”

Anya gestures for her to come closer. Raven gasps when she sees. “Seeds!” She says excitedly. “I’ve never seen so many different kinds. Costia and Octavia used to talk about all your crop fields; I thought they were lying.”

“Back then, everyone had their fill. We would welcome visitors. Now everyone I meet out here, I shoot them in the head. I have to, for my clan. But I’m planting the seeds every chance I get, so I can rebuild my home.”

Raven and Anya spend the rest of the night with their heads bent together; Anya explains every seed, what kind of soil it needs and what grows from it. Raven feels Charlotte’s hope flutter alive in her chest.

_________

Clarke is checking the fuel levels on the War Rig when Bellamy approaches. The Many Mothers gave him a white shawl that he’s wrapped around his shoulders and over his head. Under the moonlight, his tattoos mix in with each other; stories of his heroism blending with his original information blending with trades he made. He found a piece of cloth and has tied back his long hair into a ponytail. The bruises around his neck from when Lincoln tried to strangle with a chain are beginning to bloom into a grotesquely beautiful purple.

He jumps up so that they’re sitting next to each other on the hood. “Hey.”

She nods hello to him and takes a long drink of mother’s milk while she waits for him to say something.

He holds out his hand and takes a sip from her cup before saying, “I’ve been talking with the Many Mothers and the girls. With the supplies from the War Rig, we’ll never have a better chance to make it to the ocean, across the sand. The others have heard rumors of good water there.

“if we load up the motorcycles with all the supplies from the War Rig, Raven thinks we’ll have enough for about 160 days. One of those bikes is yours, if you want it.”

Clarke takes another long drink before shaking her head jerkily. “I’m better off on my own,” she says as Finn stares at her from the bonfire the others are gathered around. Wells is lying in the sand, throwing up handfuls at her whenever he sees fit. Clarke’s ghosts will never leave her alone; she’ll always be running from them. She shouldn’t inflict that onto the others.

Bellamy nods. “We’ll leave you the cycle anyway. We have to take most of the supplies, but we might be able to leave something.” He slides off the hood.

“Hey Bellamy,” Clarke says. He turns back to look at her; his face bright in the moonlight. “Hope is a mistake. If you can’t fix what’s broken, you’ll go insane.” He nods and leaves her.

_________

The others head out early the next morning. They stripped the War Rig of the supplies before sunrise—collecting water and mother’s milk and fuel in the Many Mothers’ bags, tucking guns and knives in various pockets and crevasses on the cycles. They give Costia a proper baby sling that they had been using to hold guns. She has black kohl around her and Luna’s eyes now, to match Anya and Lexa, and sturdy black boots. Most of the others have kohl too, to block out the sun from hurting their eyes. They leave a tub of it with Clarke for her supplies. Charlotte waves to her from the back of Maya’s bike, saying _bye Blood Bag!_ until Clarke can’t hear her anymore.

She watches them getting smaller in the distance and feels rooted to the sand beneath her feet. Finn and Wells stand next to her on either side. Wells puts his hand on her shoulder.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, quiet and gentle in a way he hasn’t been in years.

Finn stares across the salt at the others. “You need to leave. C’mon Clarke, I’ll race you.” He gets a wickedly mischievous look in his eyes before taking off over the sand towards the cycles. Wells takes off after him, laughing.

Clarke races to her motorcycle and chases after them both, feeling light and free for the first time in years.

When she catches up to the cycles, she pulls around to the front, where Bellamy is leading them. She pulls out the map she was working on last night and holds it up to him when they all come to a stop. “This is way back to a green place.” She points to the map.

“We go back? To the Mountain?” Bellamy asks, taking the map from her hands.

“Back to the Mountain?” Charlotte asks.

“I thought you weren’t insane anymore,” Maya says.

“What’s happening?” Lexa asks, turning to Costia who is riding behind her on the same motorcycle.

“She wants us to go back to where they came from,” Anya explains before Costia has a chance to.

Bellamy hands the map back to Clarke. “Why? What’s for us there?”

“Green,” Maya says. “Good soil. And a ridiculous amount of clean water.”

“And the Wretched,” Charlotte says. “We shouldn’t leave them behind.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “It’ll take weeks to go around the canyon. The war parties will be back at the Mountain by then; we’ll be killed.”

“No,” Clarke says. “We don’t go around the canyons. We pass through it.”

Costia says, “We know it’s open. All the war parties came through it. We can just make a straight shot through.”

“If they’re following we can decouple the tanks at the pass and shut it off. Hopefully it’ll take out most of them,” Maya says.

“And assuming we’re still alive by then, how would we take the Mountain?” Anya asks.

Bellamy answers. “If we can cut them off at the canyons, it’ll be easy. The only ones left will be the little boys and Reapers too sick to fight.”

“And we’ll be with Lincoln,” Octavia says. “He’s a Reaper. He'll be bringing us home, bringing back what was stolen, as he's meant to.”

Lincoln nods. “It feels like hope.”

“It’ll be hard,” Clarke tells Bellamy, “but 160 days across the sand will look exactly the same as it does right here. At least that way, y'know we might be able to—together—come across some kind of redemption.”

Bellamy nods. They turn their cycles around and head back to the War Rig.

_________

They’re almost back to the canyon when they spot the other war parties. “There’s Dante’s,” Octavia says, looking out the binoculars. “And the People Eater’s is right behind him.” Costia is praying to the _meini nomons_ in the sky for guidance and support.

The other cars catch to them fast. Clarke sees her car, the other that was stolen from her, racing up next to the War Rig. Lincoln’s lancer is shooting at them, and the Many Mothers shoot back from the cab. Lexa rides beside them on her motorcycle. Lincoln’s lancer is feeding guzzoline into engine of the car as the drive. “That’s my car,” Clarke shouts and shoots at him. The bullet _dings_ off the hood of the car as he flinched to miss it.

Lincoln steps over the wives and Lexa to crawl out onto the hood of the car. “Don’t fry my engine, Reaper,” Bellamy says. Lincoln shakes his head.

“I’m just gonna help it along, that’s all.” When he gets to the hood, he pours guzzoline into his mouth before spitting it into the engine. The speedometer increases; Luna starts to cry in the backseat.

“They’re trying to get in front of our car,” Charlotte says. “Bellamy, why are they doing that?”

“They’re gonna try to spike our wheels,” Bellamy says as Lincoln’s lancer yells profanities at him for betraying Dante.

The other car does manage to race ahead of them and drop the spikes; Bellamy swerves hard to avoid them. Lincoln swallows some guzzoline while being jerked around and Clarke climbs out over the sunroof to help him along. She kisses his head and sends him back into the cab as he coughs. The other Reapers are laughing and catching up with them quick. Finn and Wells stand on the back of the War Rig, silent and watching.

As Clarke is spitting guzzoline into the engines, Lexa’s bike appears on the other side of the rig. She shoots without looking towards the Reapers and hits the driver of the car. The car tailspins away and Lincoln’s lancer is thrown from the roof. Anya laughs excitedly and calls out to Lexa for a job well done.

They all jerk forward as their speed decreases rapidly. Clarke climbs out towards the driver’s seat to see what’s happening. “We have to cool it for a while,” Bellamy says. “Engine one is gone; I think two is about to blow.” Clarke nods.

“Lincoln,” she shouts. “Are you a blackthumb?” He nods, still looking sick. “Alright, you and me, we’re fixing engine one.” They climb up onto the roof; Lincoln giving Octavia a quick kiss before leaving. “We have to unhook the tanker,” Clarke says.

The other war parties are finally within shooting distance, which is scary and exciting in equal measure. Lexa is racing between them, throwing bombs into the cars and running them off the road. Some of the Reaper’s cars crash into one another and she has to swerve quickly to avoid them.

The rig jerks backwards roughly after a loud crash. Clarke wonders if they’ve ran into something until one of the Many Mothers shouts down to them, “They've got spears and harpoons! They're holding us back—dragging us!”

Clarke turns to Lincoln. “Leave three bolts, okay?” He nods.

She climbs up with the Many Mothers, Anya climbing out of the cab right behind her with the bolt cutters. Clarke starts to clip the harpoons with Anya holding onto her when they hear the wives screaming. Despite herself, Clarke gets distracted from the spears and looks up towards the cab. They’ve harpooned into the cab and the War Rig is now dragging a Reaper car. It flips on its side and tears the roof off of the cab, leaving the wives exposed. Maya and Raven are screaming as Clarke gets back to cutting the spears.

The Polecats are getting closer and closer as Clarke struggles to finish cutting the spears. When she finishes, Anya pulls her back up just as the Polecats are descending onto the rig. Anya takes her gun from her waistband and start shooting at them while Clarke steals a knife from one of their hands and starts to slash at the Reapers. She kills one of them as the other falls after getting shot by Anya. They turn and smile at each other before Anya turns around and starts shooting at the other cars.

Clarke starts to back to the engine, to see the progress that Lincoln has made, but sees a Reaper standing over the open cab with a chainsaw, ready to strike at Bellamy. She steals the gun from Anya’s hands as Anya yells profanities at her and shoots the Reaper—one quick shot to the head.

As some of the Reapers are shooting at her and Anya, a Polecat comes from nowhere and grabs Raven from her seat, pulling her up and up and depositing her into Dante’s rig. The other wives are screaming and reaching out for her, but it’s too late.

Clarke is trying to think of a way to get to Dante’s rig to rescue Raven when a Reaper climbs aboard the War Rig and makes his way to the cab. He’s about to stab Bellamy when Clarke runs towards him and tackles him onto the hood of the rig. Just as the Reaper turns around, about to stab Clarke in the head, Bellamy slams on the brakes, causing the Reaper to fall over the hood and get crushed beneath the wheels.

The bumps in the road make Clarke lose her balance and slip off the side of the rig. She waits for her head to hit the ground, for instant death, but Bellamy and the wives are reaching out for her, holding her up out of the cab. She’s so close to the ground sand is getting in her nose and eyes; her hair is dragging across the salt.

Suddenly, Bellamy screams, loud and hard, sounding like a wild animal again and he loosens his grip on Clarke. “Bellamy!” Octavia screams.

All of a sudden they gain a lot of speed and the part of Clarke’s brain that is detached from everything thinks _Oh good, Lincoln fixed the engines_. The People Eater’s car is getting closer and closer and Clarke could almost reach out and touch it. Lincoln appears from under the hood and gives her one hard kick, swinging her towards the People Eater’s rig. She grabs onto the bumper and swings herself around and up.

A Reaper with a machine gun is firing at her, but Indra takes him out from the back of the rig. Clarke goes to the driver of the rig, and kicks him in the head, one, two, three times before pulling him up out of the seat and taking his place. She punches the People Eater to get him to stop grabbing at her.

She steps hard on the gas and gets the rig to catch up with Dante’s in the front. Raven is still there, struggling and kicking but they’re pulling her hair and grabbing at her legs. Dante sees them pulling up and begins shooting at Clarke, but she pulls the People Eater in front of her and uses him as a human shield. He gets shot three times in the head before Dante stops shooting.

They zoom past him with Dante on one side and Bellamy speeding the War Rig up on the other. He crashes into one of the Reaper cars that were shooting flames at Clarke, driving over the remains of the car like it was nothing.

Charlotte is hanging outside of the car, yelling at Clarke. “He’s hurt! He’s hurt real bad!”

The back of the People Eater’s rig starts to explode from the gas and the flamethrower so Clarke jumps out back onto Bellamy’s War Rig after shoving the People Eater’s foot on the gas.

A Polecat grabs her from the cab as soon as she lands and pulls her up towards the sky. When they flip over onto the other side, she takes the knife from the Reaper’s waistband and slits her neck before shoving him off of her. As she’s in the air, the People Eater’s rig explodes, taking out a few of the cars next to it in its fires. When she swings around again, she lands on the rig with the drums and Coma the Doof Warrior playing his guitar. Up ahead, Bellamy is caught up with Dante’s rig and rams his War Rig into Dante’s, hoping it’ll flip again. He speeds up in front of Bellamy though and slams on his brakes, forcing them to crash into it. Clarke whispers a quick prayer to Costia’s goddesses that they’re okay as she tries to climb over the Doof Warrior’s amps to get back to the rig. He tries to fight her but she manages to land a few hard kicks to his face before she jumps back onto the rig.

When she gets to the cab, Lincoln is driving and Bellamy is slowly making his way over the hood of the rig. The canyon is getting closer as he tries pulls himself up on Dante’s rig, barely hanging on. He grabs a smoke bomb and hurls it into Dante’s cab.

Cage, Dante’s son, comes out of the cab then, looking to see who threw the bomb. He gets distracted however when Charlotte, stripped of the vest and boots and head wrap that the Many Mothers gave her, shouts, “Cage! Take me!” Octavia screams, trying to grab ahold of Charlotte’s hand to stop her, but Cage is too quick and plucks Charlotte up. Cage climbs onto Bellamy’s rig trying to reach into the cab to grab Octavia, but when he’s distracted Charlotte helps to pull Bellamy up onto Dante’s rig.

Cage spots and turns to kill her, but Clarke throws a skull she finds on the rig at his head. He turns towards her, and grabs her face, throwing her to the back of the rig. Clarke can hear Bellamy and a reaper fighting on Dante’s rig; Lincoln crashes the War Rig into the back as Indra fires two shots into Cage, killing him. Indra and Anya help Clarke back into the cab of the rig.

She sees Bellamy hanging off the side of Dante’s cab, holding on by a chain and harpoon. He’s slowly making his way towards the driver’s side window. When Dante lowers the window and aims his gun at Bellamy, Raven grabs his arm, pulling his hand back into the cab.

Clarke can see Bellamy take the harpoon and loop it through Dante’s breathing mask before wrapping the chain the spear is attached to around the tire. The harpoon rips off the breathing mask and blood spurts everywhere from rig.

As Raven is pulling Bellamy into the cab, Charlotte pops up out of the sunroof of the rig and shouts, “He’s dead! He’s dead!”

The wives all exchange glances with each other, wide-eyed and disbelieving. Lexa’s motorcycle manages to catch up with the rig and Costia and Anya help to pull her up into the cab as Lincoln says to Octavia, “Go to the other rig. When you're across safe, I'll jam the throttle and follow you.” She nods; the canyon is approaching and this is their only shot. The women get across the rig first, jumping quickly one right after the other before Lincoln shoves a rock onto the gas pedal. He jerks the wheel hard and as the rig is turning, about to crash into the canyon, he jumps onto Dante’s rig. He just barely makes it, holding on by his fingertips, but the girls pull him up as the canyon falls all over the other rigs. They can hear Coma the Doof Warrior and the drums crashing, their final notes echoing for a minute before the world gets quiet.

As the head back across the salt, Lincoln is driving the new rig. They’ve shoved Dante’s body to the rear of the cab and have laid Bellamy out on his back, his head in Octavia’s lap. He’s breathing loud and raspy.

“Why is he making that noise?” Octavia asks, sponging off the sweat on his forehead with a wet rag.

“He's pumping air into his chest cavity,” indra explains. “He's collapsing his lungs, one breath at a time.”

Clarke knows this, remembers something from all those lifetimes ago about collapsing lungs and how to treat them. She remembers her mother’s cold hands teaching the exact place in the ribs to stab into, creating a way for air to get into the lungs.

She grabs a knife from Anya and feels around Bellamy’s ribs. “Sorry, sorry,” she says before stabbing hard into his chest. Octavia flinches hard, but Bellamy takes a deep breath finally. The girls cry out.

“Hey,” Clarke says gently as Bellamy stirs. He tries to whisper something so Clarke lifts him up, close to her ear.

“Home,” he says. “My home…”

He loses consciousness then, and as Clarke says _no no no no no_ over and over, Anya says quietly, “He's exsanguinated, drained all his blood.”

Clarke grabs the tubing that Lincoln was using earlier and roots around in her pocket for needles. She loops the needle through the tubing, handing it to Maya. “Take this, hold it up. Keep him awake,” she says to the others. Raven leans across the seat and gently strokes his cheek. “Bellamy,” they all say, gentle as they can. Clarke takes the other end of the tubing and sticks into her vein. Blood comes pouring out into the tubing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Clarke says to him again as she puts the other needle into his arm. “There you go, okay. You’ll be fine.” She lifts his head up in her hands and says, finally, “Clarke. My name is Clarke.” Finn and Wells are nowhere to be seen.

When they finally reach the Mountain again, it’s buzzing with excitement. The sickly Reapers descend on the elevator platform. Bellamy is up and talking and hasn’t had any blood in a few hours. They’ve brought Dante back inside the rig and when they finally get to the elevator platform, Clarke picks him up and deposits him on the hood. She takes away the white sheet and the Mountain explodes in an uproar of excitement. “He’s dead! President Dante is dead!” The wives, Bellamy and the Many Mothers join her on the hood as the Wretched start chanting happily _Let them up! Let them up!_

Lincoln drives the Rig onto the elevator platform as the wives laugh and whisper and help the Wretched up so they can be with them. The platform starts to get raised up and Clarke jumps down off of it while no one is looking. She knew that she wouldn’t stay from the minute she suggested that they go back to the Mountain. She can’t. Bellamy got his redemption and she needs to find hers.

She makes eye contact with him when she looks back. He smiles at her in the crowd and nods once before he looks away.

_________

It’s been over a year since they took the Mountain. Bellamy became the leader of it, along with the former wives. They now called themselves sisters, and sleep in big piles with Luna and Raven’s daughter after working the crops during the day. The Many Mothers help them, reveling in good soil that is soft beneath their fingers. Octavia and Lincoln mostly care for the little boys that were destined to be Reapers before Dante’s death. The former Milk Mothers are in charge of water distribution and the former Reapers are spearheading the project to build shelters for the Wretched. Raven helps them; she was always a mechanic and she’s happiest when she’s fixing loose screws and welding.

It’s not redemption for all the people Bellamy has killed or how many times he tried to escape without Octavia, but it is close enough that he can sleep at night and feel peace.

He misses Clarke. He knows why she left—this was never her war and she needed to find her own salvation. But still. He wishes she could have stayed. It was hard at first, with the Gas Town and Bullet Farm rebellions that had to be stopped and he knows it would have been easier with her by his side.

He thinks about her most days, right at sunrise when the world isn’t awake yet and he shouldn’t be either. Or at night, when he thinks about the evening they sat together in the War Rig after finding the Many Mothers and his grief was eating him alive. _I have ghosts in my eyes_ , she had said. _They eat into my brain and won’t leave me alone_.

He has ghosts now too; his clanswomen showing up in the corners of his sightline or dead Reapers on the stairs where they used to congregate. It hurts to see them, flashes of pain he never expected when he was shooting at them from the War Rig. It wasn’t their fault, not truly. They had no choice. He doesn’t regret it, knows all their lives are much better now, but still they haunt him.

She shows up in the morning one day, close to 14 moons from when they took the Mountain. She just appears out of nowhere, so quickly that he think she’s a ghost now too, or a mirage that his eyes are tricking him with.

She has one new long scar down her cheek and her hair is even longer than it was, growing down past her elbows. She walks up him easily and confidently. “Hey,” she says simply. There’s a dog at her feet that follows her when she walks.

He smiles at her and they hug quickly, letting go after a moment as if they’ve both been burned. He doesn’t touch many people these days, and he always got the feeling that she never did.

He takes her on a tour, lingering in the greenhouses and quickly shuffling past the vault where his sister was once prisoner. No one has been in it since; the door is shut tight and locked.

They end up on the top of the mountain, where Dante used to make announcements to the Wretched. “Everything looks so tiny,” she says.

“Yeah, it’s nice up here. The Milk Mothers used to live here.”

She hums and they stay there looking over the Mountain until nightfall. The silence is easy between them; she’s happy with saying nothing at all.

“How are your ghosts?” He asks finally, once the stars are out and the moon is high.

“Quiet,” she says, petting her dog softly.

They fall asleep there that night, on top of the Mountain. The next morning, she kisses him quickly and gently before saying, “Can you show me the greenhouses again? That’s where I want to work from now on.” He kisses her again, slowly and hesitantly before taking her hand and leading her there.

He doesn’t know if she’ll stay this time, but he feels at peace right then, holding her sun-kissed hand and leading her to the green place.

**Author's Note:**

> trigedasleng translations:  
> “land of many mothers” = “graun kom meini nomons“  
> “we are not things” = “osir nou diyos”  
> “who killed the world?” = “chon teik au graun?”


End file.
